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Monday, May 9, 2011

I Find My True Love...and Other Trip Highlights

We survived our excursion to JazzFest 2011.

It was tough with all the awesome food, inspiring music and laid-back atmosphere. But somehow we managed to make it through.

I had fully intended to take a slew of photographs to chronicle our trip, but I found it hard to tear myself away from whatever I was shoving in my face at the moment to snap pictures. When I did think about taking a picture it was inevitably after I had mawed my way through half of the dish. Those photos are less than appetizing.

I did, however, capture this shot of my future husband. I plan on divorcing Michael to spend the rest of my life with him.

Meet Mr. Cochon de Lait Po'Boy.

Y'all just aren't going to believe how good this sucker was. I implore you to not be distracted by his humble looks. He is the real deal.

So much so, that Michael and I had three...each...during our 4-day trip. (I'm trying, for the life of me, to remember why we missed a day. I think it was a lame excuse about eating some of our other local favorites while in town--it was not worth missing a day of this porky goodness.)

Slow-smoked pork butt, cold cabbage slaw and homemade horseradish sauce all layered on French bread and then doused in hot sauce.

I died, came back to life, and died again. It's that good.

Yes, I'm still talking about this sandwich. Deal with it.

Fine, I'll move on since I've run out of things to say except if you can get your hands on a Love at First Bite Cochon de Lait Po-Boy, then you best knock over everyone around you including the pregnant ladies and old people to get your sandwich.

Whenever we told people we were heading to JazzFest as a sort of babymoon, their eyebrows would raise, they looked at me as if I was a mad woman and then would inevitably ask "You know you're pregnant, right?"

However, I wasn't too concerned heading into the weekend. This is Michael's fifth or sixth Fest and my third. And we both know two very important facts: New Orleans in May typically means 90 degrees each day and the closing weekend of JazzFest brings on a crush of people (daily attendance can exceed 100 THOUSAND people).

Guess what? It was hot and crowded.

I know, pretty surprising.

Since I make a habit of putting forth my best efforts to not be a complete moron, I prepared for these two facts and we had no issues tackling this trip at 32-weeks pregnant.

Backpack chairs, cowboy hat, sunscreen, breathable clothes, an endless supply of delectable rose-mint iced tea, close proximity to restrooms and air conditioned rest stations and we were jamming with (and in better shape than most of) the other festival goers.

The trip itself was fabulous, but a few of our favorite highlights included:

Overhearing the following line from a conversation between two 70-something year old women: "Well, I've seen Better than Ezra about 7 times, so I really don't need to see their set here."

Which was in sharp contrast to the less hip 50-year old couple sitting in front of us at the Willie Nelson set, "Ugh. Why does it smell like dead skunk here?" Clearly, she was not used to festivals, Willie Nelson or other things that might smell funny at such events.

A stunning African American woman sporting a shirt with the text "Shakespeare hates your emo poems."

The slew (as in many multitudes of) middle aged women singing along to and rocking out at the Kid Rock show AND breaking out their pop-and-lock moves.

Did I mention the Cochon de Lait Po-Boys?

Since we have nothing better to do on the weekends these days (I mean, a nursery doesn't need to be painted and set up or anything. And why would anyone spend time taking silly labor classes?), we will be spending next weekend in the far more relaxing setting of Asheville, NC.

But don't worry, more funny to come before we leave. I mean, Michael and I did manage to spend more than 3 consecutive hours together, so the funny was flowing.